Quill

Echos Of A War Cry

I echo your echoes,
And your cries,
You echo the echoes,
From a million stars,
And I shape my mind,
With burning eyes,
For echoes of echoes,
Are all I see,
And the echoes speak,
Of all misery,
For bad times,
Birth strong men,
Yet weak men,
Birth bad times,
What times are these?,
I ask myself,
Sewn mouths,
And lidded eyes,
Yet “peacefully”,
I shall hold myself,
For peace is struggle,
In disguise,
Peace is patient,
Muffled cries,
I hear the echoes,
Of times of war,
That births from these,
Mundane, peaceful times,
I choose my war,
Over this peace of yours,
For my war has fire,
That purifies,
Burn your rotten,
Selfish peace,
Or my war shall see,
Your sacrifice,
In times like these,
My gods have bled,
And in times like these,
Have tyrants died,
In times like these,
Are echoes spread,
The times like these,
Are your demise.

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